


A New Day

by notjustmom



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gift Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:21:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29594793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: This story is a gift for crazycat1895, she asked for some John and Sherlock with a bit of angst, and this is what happened. It is what could have happened after dim sum, it can be read as platonic, or however you choose to see them.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson
Comments: 27
Kudos: 42





	A New Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crazycat1895](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazycat1895/gifts).



He was the first to admit he was not good at change, even if it seemed to be a change for the better. He was no longer on his own, and he had just helped solve a case with the most brilliant man he’d ever met in his life. If Sherlock also happened to be the oddest, he tried not to think about that fact too much, he had his own issues to deal with, or as the case had been for most of his life, not dealt with.

Issues. He snorted and ran his hand over his face as he looked into the mirror on the wall of his new room. He should be exhausted, in fact, he was, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep soon. He could hear Sherlock moving around below him - and then silence. Silence, then the most beautiful music he’d ever heard began to climb the stairs to his room. No, it was Sherlock climbing the stairs, he had somehow deduced that music was one of the few things that could help make the ghosts that haunted him disappear. John sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, looked at the deep darkness under his eyes one more time and climbed into a bed of clean, slightly scented sheets, drew up the ancient but warm quilts from the end of his bed, and was soon fast asleep.

He woke up to the scent of coffee, and reached for his phone. Seven in the morning. Only four hours of sleep, but he couldn’t remember the last time he had slept so long without a nightmare. Had to be because of the case, or the insane amount of dim sum - no, it was the fact that he finally felt safe enough to sleep. Which was ridiculous. What did he know about the man downstairs? Enough, he supposed, enough to know that Sherlock Holmes needed saving just as much as he did.

Music. There was the music again. He should get out of bed. He needed to get a shower and get dressed and go out and look for a job. It didn’t matter that he’d saved the life of his flatmate. A flatmate. How had that happened to him, of all people, at his age? He sighed and as the music continued on below, he surrendered once more to its gentle beauty.

He poured himself another coffee and added the necessary sugar, and once more replayed the last two days. He realised that he no longer enjoyed being on his own, probably from the moment John had walked into the lab. He had been surprised, which didn’t happen that often, first that he had shown up the following evening, and then again when he settled so easily into the chair across from his, as if - as if he belonged there among the books and odds and ends that had kept him company before.

Already, he was seeing his life in two definite parts, before he had met John and after. He put a stop to that thought as he heard a barely audible rustle from upstairs, and silently moved towards his violin. As he began to play again, he considered what had changed. He was still reckless, still a show-off, still rude, and yet, what had he done after the case was over? After the boring and predictable conversation with his annoying brother, he had taken John for dim sum. He had never taken anyone there before, it was one of his places where they always knew exactly what he needed, even when he didn’t, and on their entrance - the owner - she had known him since - far too long, he considered, she had hugged him, which she had never done before and invited them both in her broken English to sit, and she would feed them. And she had, he couldn’t remember eating quite so well before. It was then that he understood. She was feeding John, because she saw. She knew that John was important to him, and John needed ‘feeding up.’ She had seen just how broken John truly was before he did, but he had known enough, not only from the obvious signs, and he had felt it. That was the difference, he had never allowed himself to feel another’s pain before. He played until his fingers hurt, then set the bow and violin down in the case and looked up to see John sitting in his chair. He hadn’t showered, and he had slept in the clothes from the night before, but he’d never seen anyone more - more what? Alive. It was as if John had realised he had survived the war or was it wars? He had the feeling Afghanistan was not his first battlefield. John smiled at him, and his heart - no - not his heart - his mind - his perfectly balanced, rational mind paused for a moment, and for once, he found he was speechless.

“Sherlock?”

“Hmm.”

“Thank you, for last night.”

“I think, I should be thanking you, that is what most people would say to someone who saved -”

“The music. Your music last night, this morning. I haven’t slept so well in years, haven’t felt safe enough to sleep until this morning. I was afraid to.”

“Nightmares.”

“Yeah.” John ran his fingers through hair and studied him closely for a moment. “You didn’t sleep last night.”

Sherlock shook his head. “I don’t, normally. Especially after a case, and that last case - why?”

“Why, what?”

“You killed a man for me.”

“I thought we went through that.”

“John.”

John nodded and studied his hands. “I haven’t felt alive in a long time, long before Afghanistan. I’d been going through the motions for years, because it was what I knew to do, but when I walked into the lab and you looked up and saw me, and saw everything, saw enough, anyway, it felt like -”

“Breathing. I felt like I finally started breathing for the first time when I saw you standing there.” He walked over to John, and offered him his hand. “Will you, I don’t know, just be with me while I fall asleep?”

John took the offered hand, and followed him into his bedroom and closed the door behind them.


End file.
